Of Promises and Other Such Things
by Scrafty
Summary: A collection of oneshots. Characters, genre, and rating are subject to change. Prompt 1: "Airplane"


So, I've decided I want to write prompts now. Here's the first one, more will come when the mood strikes me.

For a general disclaimer before I get in trouble, I do not own any of the characters mentioned, in the case that there is one that belongs to myself I will say so at the beginning of the oneshot/prompt in an author's note.

Characters: USA, Canada (mentions of others)

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Airport

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Mathew checked over his suitcase. Everything seemed in order; His clothing was tucked and folded neatly, his toiletries were packed, and not a thing of his was left behind. However, gazing up, he saw his brother's suitcase wasn't doing as well.

Alfred's possessions were slung across the room, clothes on the chair and table, some toiletries left in the bathroom, stuffed bear lost within the sheets of the bed; he had truly made himself at home. Which would be fine, had it actually been his home and not a hotel room the two had paid for _one night _in. But there he sat, ignoring his sixth plead of the morning to pack up his things in favor of watching the hotel television screen.

Mathew heaved a sigh; he really wished his brother wouldn't be so messy. That was just how he was, though. Although he doubted his brother's commitment to ignoring his quiet pleads to get packed up and ready to go was because he was really all that invested in the rerun of _Jersey Shore_ that he was watching.

Truth was the pair was scheduled to board a plane to England in less than _two hours_. Another sigh left the Canadian as he put his hands on his hips to try and rouse his brother once more.

"Al, we need to _go._" He emphasized the last word, trying to speak loudly enough to finally break the American man's attention on the television. To his relief, it worked.

Alfred tensed slightly and turned to his brother, "Can it wait until after this episode? I'll pack super quick, promise!" he wore a frown on his childish face, accompanied by the saddest pair of puppy-dog-eyes Mathew had ever seen. Well the saddest he had seen _today,_ anyway. The Canadian was much too used to his brother's childish antics to be drawn into giving in _again_.

"No, Al. We have to be at the airport in half an hour. Now, let's go." Despite that he had clearly told the American to pack his own things, Mathew scurried around the room picking up his brother's possessions and packing them in his suitcase for him.

After about ten minutes, Alfred cleared his throat and moved away from the television to help his brother with the remainder of his packing.

Once they were both packed up and ready to go, the pair checked out of the hotel and flagged down a taxi to take them to the airport. During the short ride, Mathew noticed his brother become tenser, even though the American hid it well beneath his constant chatter with the (obviously foreign) cabdriver. His smile looked forced, his shoulders were set in a hard horizontal, and his leg was almost constantly tapping the ground. The cabdriver didn't seem to notice, and Alfred didn't seem to notice he was doing it. Mathew, however, was used to reading his brother.

Alfred was one who liked to be seen as he expected to, using his obnoxious behavior to keep people at bay, though most would think his behavior was meant to do the opposite. And for the most part, it worked, if the American's relationship with Russia had anything to show.

They were nearly at the airport, and Alfred had begun picking at the fibers of his coat, the bottom of which was slightly frayed in two places due to continued abuse much like it was under at the moment. Mathew recognized this as one of his brother's few nervous ticks. He moved himself closer to his brother and placed a hand on his arm; an action of comfort that did not go unnoticed by his brother. Alfred raised his own hand and placed it over his brother's and gave a light squeeze, all without skipping a beat in his one-sided conversation with the cabdriver.

Eventually, though, the taxi came to a stop at the airport, and Alfred was forced to evacuate from the relative safety he felt in the car. He paid the man with a crisp bill and soft "Thanks", before exiting the car and going to the trunk with his brother to collect their things.

Once Mathew shut the trunk, the taxi was off, leaving Alfred looking (quite obviously) nervous at the prospect of entering the building in front of them.

"Are you ready to go? Artie's gonna be mad if we're late, y'know." Alfred gave his signature laugh, though his facial expression clashed with the sound.

Mathew smiled softly; taking a hold of his brother's gloved hand, "Yeah. I know." He said softly.

He knew this was coming, and that was why he had flown into America to meet up with Alfred before the two went to England together. Alfred had been rather…iffy around planes since, well, the incident back in 2001. And Mathew couldn't help but sympathize with the normally strong nation. It happened pretty close to himself, after all. However, it was also because of the fact that before then, his brother had enjoyed a largely threat-free life on his mainland. It was always hard for someone to realize that they weren't as safe or strong as they had originally thought; especially when that person largely thought themselves to be practically _bulletproof_. That day, Alfred's hero persona had cracked a bit; how was he supposed to protect anybody if he himself weren't safe? It had taken the American a long while to be able to even _call_ himself a hero again, not to mention making himself fully _believe_ he was one.

The two made their way through airport security, and onto the plane, Alfred's eyes darting about and studying every single person who passed him as if they would pull a gun on him right then, though he still made an obvious effort to continue conversation and keep himself smiling.

As bad as the trip _to_ the plane was, Mathew had to admit that once they were actually on the plane, Alfred had gotten worse. The American had dropped his smile, and had become almost silent once they had taken their seats, Mathew had tried his hardest to compensate and start a conversation himself, but once the stewardess had begun to go over the safety and emergency instructions, his brother had shushed him (an odd thing coming from Alfred) and listened to the stewardess and followed her instructions to the letter.

Once the plane took off, Alfred remained in a similar state; largely silent save for one word answers to the one-sided conversation (now held by Mathew) directed at him as he gazed out the small window.

Mathew looked sympathetically at his brother and took his hand again, "Al, why don't you try and sleep, huh? The trip will go faster." He rubbed soothing circles into Alfred's hand as he spoke. For his efforts, the American relaxed a bit.

Alfred mumbled something quietly in response to his brother. For once, Mathew was straining to hear rather than be heard.

"What was that? C'mon, Al. _I'm _supposed to be the quiet one." The Canadian tried to add some humor to the situation. If Alfred's repeated mumble was anything to go by, he didn't find it to be all that funny.

"Al, come on. Speak up a bi-" He was cut off by his brother's explosive voice.

"WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENS? HUH, MATT? WHAT THEN?" Alfred's eyes were crazed for a moment before he cleared his throat and offered a soft apology to those who had turned in their seats at his outburst. He made eye contact with his brother and repeated in a softer tone, "What if something happens and I'm not awake to save everyone?"

Mathew frowned at that, he should have guessed it was something along those lines. He let out a soft sigh before smiling softly at the American.

"I'll wake you up if anything happens. I promise." He assured him.

Alfred seemed to think on this for a moment.

"What if you can't?" he asked. It was a bit of an irrational question, but Mathew would provide an answer for the sake of his brother.

"C'mon Al, We're brothers, eh? Doesn't that make me at least _half_ hero too? I'll wake you up, promise." He offered his pinky finger to his brother along with a soft smile.

Alfred studied his brother for a moment before sighing and interlocking his own pinky with Mathew's.

"Fine, but if anything even _begins_ to look like it's gonna happen; wake me up." He said, voice firm and eyes serious despite the childish display of a promise.

"I know, Al. Trust me just a bit, eh?" he released his brother's finger and sat back in his seat to allow his brother some space. Alfred, however, immediately laid his head upon the Canadian's shoulder and took hold of his hand once more.

Mathew sighed good-naturedly and leaned his own head atop his brother's. They still had a long flight ahead of them, and Mathew _did_ want to sleep instead of watch the god-awful romantic comedy that was playing on the plane. However, he had made a promise to his brother (a pinky promise, at that!) and he would be damned if he didn't keep it.

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I hope you enjoyed, please feel free to review |'D

Also, feel free to make suggestions in the form of one-word prompts or characters for me to use in the future(I only got this one from my mom and friend, haha!).

Critique is always welcome!

-Scrafty


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